Tag Archives: Coast Guard

Licensing boat drivers – a violation of our freedoms or a way to save sailors lives?

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Anacapa Light
©Randy Bush 2009

Our Sailtime shipmates Randy Bush and Steve Van Hook overheard an interesting conversation on channel #16 a week ago. It’s kinda funny and bit frightening. It’s a dialogue between a powerboat captain and the Coast Guard.

This is Anastasia — where am I?

Saturday was one of those “gottta go out” days. Steve Van Hook and I had just completed a spectacular sail around Anacapa, and had Varekai’s bow pointed toward home. Around 1600 or so, the VHF came alive with an exchange between the Coast Guard and the powerboat Anastasia. It went pretty much like this: (My comments in parentheses).

ANASTASIA: This is the motor vessel Anastasia calling Coast Guard.

CG: Anastasia, Coat Guard Sector L.A. Do you have an emergency?

Randy Bush ANASTASIA: Uh, yeah, one of my engines is out and I need somebody to follow us home.

(The CG then went through their usual interrogation about number of people on board, lifejackets, etc.)

CG: Sector L.A. roger, what is your position?

ANASTASIA: Uh, we’re trying to figure out how to read this thing. We’re near Anacapa Island.

CG: Anastasia, Sector L. A. Sir, what part of Anacapa are you near?

ANASTASIA: Let’s see—the Southwest corner of the Island.

CG: Roger sir, how far off the Island are you?

ANASTASIA: We’re near Anacapa.

CG: (Beginning to sound a little irritated) Sir, I said how far off of the Island are you?

ANASTASIA: Oh, you know what? I think we’re actually on the East side. Right near this pointy tower. I think it has a light on top.

CG: Would that be the lighthouse sir?

ANASTASIA: Yeah that’s it.

CG: Roger sir, stand by.

(We think at this point the CG went off-mike so they could all laugh hysterically. Steve and I were almost on the cockpit floor)

CG: Anastasia, Sector L.A. Are you on the North or the South side of the Island?

ANASTASIA: Uh…

CG: Sir, are you between the Island and the mainland?

ANASTASIA: Yes, we are between Anacapa and Oxnard Harbor. My port engine is out and I need someone to follow us back in.

(Isn’t that why you HAVE two engines? It’s not a friggin’ airplane after all)

CG: Roger Sir, understand. Suggest you continue toward the harbor and we’ll contact Vessel Assist. Sector L.A. out.

Pretty soon Anastasia appeared off our starboard quarter.

“Better give that guy a wide berth,” quipped Steve.

I did.

As funny as this is, it’s also quite sad. What if this guy had had a real emergency? He and his passengers (nine of them) could have been toast because of his total cluelessness. I guess we’d all better keep a wary eye out for the Anastasias of the world.

—Randy Bush

Capt. Dan comments:
There are way more power boaters than there are sailors, so that’s part of the reason our shipmates don’t sound foolish at the same frequency as others. But I think the most important reason that sailors seem more competent than powerboat drivers is that it takes training to operate a sailboat. That training usually includes basic navigation, rules of the road, and teaches sailors to be “forehanded” to think ahead.

Many would-be powerboaters find a sexy looking boat in the showroom, look at the wheel, spot the ignition key, write a check and are off on an adventure. That level of knowledge can be hazardous in an inland lake, on the Pacific it’s only a matter of time before they scare themselves – or us.

From time to time, they have serious, sometimes fatal but avoidable accidents. Many is the weekend we’ve heard Mayday calls from skippers who did not know the name of their boat, where they were or where their next sip of gas was coming from.

Licensing makes sense to me. Just a simple online test or an ASA certificate. But even better than a state or federal license – a big break on insurance for people who have taken the time to hone and then prove their skills.

Coming home to Oxnard in Heavy Weather

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© Wayne Lambright 2005, photos used with permission

Santana 22, about to be engulfed, passes beneath Golden Gate Bridge. This does not go well.

This picture shows this hapless boat just before it and the crew are tumbled by the breakers. This most graphic of graphics prompted Mack Frankfurter to ask the best strategy for returning to Ventura or Channel Islands in heavy weather.

We’ve come back home to Channel Islands Harbor a few times when we wished we hadn’t. The most notable was a high speed transit home from Santa Cruz in 40+ knots (gusts over 50) and swells building to more than 10 feet.

The swells were not penetrating the channel that day, so if we could get past the breakwater, we’d be home free. It was a harrowing ride aboard the 46-foot, 12-ton Sancerre. A swell caught us as we neared the breakwater and lifted so high we felt as if were floating above the G1 light. The wave broke, really collapsed, and we settled into frothy whitewater, but inside the breakwater in fairly flat water and a mere 30 knots of wind.

Coast Guard 47-footer in action

Was there a better way? I called the Coast Guard Station at Channel Islands and talked to Boatswain’s Mate Second Class Jimmy Allen. Petty Officer Allen is the operations PO and an expert at driving all of the boats at the station and a graduate of 3-week National Motor Lifeboat school at Cape Disappointment, Washington.

According to Petty Officer Allen, either 30 knots of wind or swells greater than 8 feet constitutes heavy weather in their book. When conditions get to that point, they will only operate the 47′ Motor Lifeboat. Nothing smaller.

Allen’s advice coincides with what we teach at Sailtime Channel Islands Sailing School: Take time to assess the situation before leaving the harbor. Allen says watch for at least 10 minutes and check both the north and south exits. We agree that south is usually best in the prevailing W-NW wind and swell.

When PO Allen’s leaving on SAR, he’s got to go. We don’t, and if the waves are crashing over the breakwater and the sea looks like mashed potatoes as far as you can see, go back to your pier.

Let’s take the case that you’re already out there and heading home in snotty weather. Again, scope out the situation before committing. Call the Harbor Patrol on channel 16 to get their assessment of the situation before heading in.

Get the boat ready. If you’ve been paying attention to the conditions, you’ve already got your hatchboards in place, your hatches dogged, loose gear stowed and you’ve got everyone clipped in. Start the engine and get her warmed up. Brief your crew on what to expect and what you’ll be asking them to do.

47-footer at Morro Bay

If we have our typical N-NW windc and swell, approach the harbor on a broad reach – never dead downwind – that could turn into an ugly gybe. Put the engine in gear. You’re likely to need every bit of power from every source to make the passage. Try to get the rhythm of the swell. PO Allen runs at nearly full power and settles in behind a swell, doing S-turns so that he doesn’t outrun the waves. That’s obviously something we can’t do in our 8-9 knot sailboats. But we can read the waves.

If the moment you’ve picked turns extremely snarly, come up to a close reach and head back out for deep water, another look and, maybe, better conditions.

I set up so that I’ll pass close to the breakwater – normally 50 yards or so and at about 90 degrees to the breakwater. The swell will shoal up in the shallow water, making the waves higher and steeper, but it’s better to be as far upwind as possible than to get blown down to the south jetty and the shallow water south of it.

As soon as I’m a hair past the breakwater, I turn up hard, go to max power and head for the lee of the breakwater. We trim our sails and sail almost parallel to the breakwater until we’re on the channel centerline or slightly left of it. Then we head in.

All of that said, there may be a time when the wind and swell are so hazardous that you’re better off staying put at an island anchorage or even simply heading back to deep water. It’s a tough call – my crew is tired, we’re already here; do I want to try to wait out the storm?

Finally, Petty Officer Allen says that they’ve been able aid boats in distress by positioning the 47-footer directly astern and matching speed. This dampens the effect of the breaking water.

The discussion of returning to port in heavy wx will continue in the next blog. If you’ve got an experience to share or comments on the issues, please post them in the comment box below.

See you on the water

Capt. Dan

More Tales of the Southern California Santa Ana

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Sean

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Twenty years ago, Captain Sean Quine set out for the first overnighter on his new yacht. He sailed to Smugglers Cove on an idyllic afternoon.

Conditions changed.

Radically.

People – though not in Sean’s crew – died.

Log entry: 28 October 1988

Maiden overnight voyage on Down Under, a 54-foot Hunter cutter-rigged sloop.

Aboard: my girlfriend Nicki, my soon to be step-daughter Brittany, a friend of Brittany’s and me.

Weather: Skies clear, a steady 10 – 15 knot wind out of the NW.

Passage to Smugglers: Uneventful and entirely enjoyable. We arrived at Smugglers to join about 9 other boats. We chose to anchor approximately 200 feet from the point which separates Smugglers and Yellowbanks.

At anchor: The afternoon was glorious, an inflatable zoomed around the cove pulling a water skier; the cove was sunny and the water flat. That evening, as I swayed in the hammock I’d strung between the staysail and the mast, I remarked to my girlfriend on how bright the stars were that night.

We called it a night at around 10pm, and fell asleep.

Anchor watch: At 2am the wind started howling. Within an hour it was over 30 knots with gusts to 50 knots. A bit of the roller-furling staysail came loose, exposing it to the full force of the wind. This eventually caused the furling line to part and the sail unfurled explosively. I raced to the deck to lower the sail, however not before the sail was shredded.

Fortunately, we had set two anchors at approximately 45 degrees relative to port and starboard bow. One was a 44lb Bruce and the other a Northhill.

The wind was now heading directly towards the southern end of Smugglers; the boat had spun around and was no more that 10 feet from the rocky point at the southern edge of Smugglers.

Wind and sea continued to build over the early morning hours. Wind waves of more than 6 feet crashed into the anchorage. Pictures I took of the neighboring sport fisher show waves breaking over the bow of the anchored boat.

For now, my anchors held tight and kept me off the rocks. The boat was equipped with a dated manual windlass that we were not sure could handle the load. We realized that unless we were to cut the anchor lines we would be unable to move to a safer anchorage.

We decided to wait it out, as the anchors appeared to be holding fine. Right next door in Yellowbanks, drama was unfolding as a Coast Guard cutter had washed ashore in an attempt to rescue another boater. Later, I heard that another boat with a family aboard had died as their boat slammed into Anacapa.

Escape: The winds persisted for nearly 5 days as we sat aboard Down Under hoping for a break. On the fifth day the winds had decreased to 25-30 knots and we decided to take our chances. With Nicki at the helm, we motored at full throttle against the wind and waves. In the process of pulling up the first anchor, the line parted, leaving the anchor firmly secured to the seafloor. During this attempt the dinghy painter got wrapped around the prop and sucked the dinghy (a hard fiberglass with wood trim dink) under the boat and crunched it into many pieces.

Having now only a single anchor we contemplated our next move. Since our engine was out of commission we decided to attempt to pull the anchor and sail out of the anchorage. Fortunately the second anchor did come up with the manual windlass and we were able to reach out of the anchorage under sail.

Homeward bound: The passage home was windy and bumpy, however we made it to the Ventura harbor entrance just in time for the wind to die completely! We were towed back into our slip.

The Bill: Down Under had damage to the hull, sails, and lost the dinghy. Total damage – as they say – $15k. The insurance company was grateful; grateful that it wasn’t a total loss.

I learned a valuable lesson about sailing and carefully selecting an anchorage at this time of year. And to keep a watchful eye even if the weather seems perfect.

U.S. Coast Guard, Harbor Patrol, Capt. Dan

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Captain Dan in his Mustang Lifejackt What do Capt. Dan, the Coast Guard and our Local Harbor Patrol have in common?

Well, yeah … that, but I was thinking that the most important commonality is that we all wear LIFE JACKETS when we’re underway.

The CG, Harbor Patrol, CG Auxiliary, Sea Scouts, Ventura Sailing School, the kids at PCYC summer sailing program – we all wear life jackets underway. Someone – probably the Commandant – orders the Coasties to wear them and policy probably directs the others. But for those of us who get to make our own decisions, well very few of us wear LIFE JACKETS routinely. And that is stupid, particularly on sailboats.

Hardly anyone goes in the cold Ventura coastal waters from the deck of a sailboat intentionally. The victims become victims because they slip, trip or are washed over the side, or – worse – are clocked by the boom or are wrenched free from their handhold as they dislocate a shoulder.

But enough – for the moment – of my preaching. Read this story about some very accomplished yachtswomen who recently damned near bought the farm near Anacapa: Nauti Chicas swimming lessons Aug 4 posting.

Note: I don’t call them pfd’s any more. That sounds like optional equipment. I’m back to the traditional LIFE JACKET. That, particularly capitalized, looks like something you need.

LIFE JACKETS